


you've been like a light

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Marianne’s face was aflame, and she didn’t think even the bitter, biting cold of the sea all around them could put it out.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Kudos: 19
Collections: Fic In A Box





	you've been like a light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrisonersDilemma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrisonersDilemma/gifts).



> hello! here is your other gift, this time for the cotton candy gfs!! i hope you enjoy, this pining was very fun to do ^^

Marianne von Edmund was seasick. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Marianne had never  _ been  _ seasick before, so she supposed she did not exactly know how it felt. Before two days ago, she had scarcely even been out at sea, on the open water like this. But now that she had been, and feeling unwell as she was, she surmised the feelings in her gut were from the jolt of the waves and how they shook her off the small bench in the cell she was confined to. 

It was not a bad cell, all things considered. Marianne had not been in a cell much before either, but she imagined most prisoners did not typically get three meals a day, or a blanket and pillow to rest their head on when it was night, or were allowed the luxury of conversation and entertainment every other night. 

Maybe these ‘Golden Deer’ were not very good pirates. They didn’t seem very concerned with her discomfort at all! 

Especially that pink haired girl. The first mate, Marianne assumed, by her very large feathered hat-- second only in size to Captain von Reigen’s. 

Back in the margravate, Marianne had scarcely left her room. There was not much the little land could offer her. She had her books and her horses, but other than that, she was woefully bored. Nothing ever happened. Not that Marianne was very good at dealing with things… happening, but still. Even she tired of the same routine. 

Before two days ago, pirates had been the farthest thing from her mind. The margravate did house a port, but they’d never been predisposed to such problems before. Then, a huge ship with bright yellow sails docked in the port. She’d been out with her father returning from a drab regency party when they hopped off and began setting buildings alight, pillaging and plundering and all the things pirates are want to do. 

Her father’s guard had moved on them immediately, but these pirates, these Golden Deer, as they called themselves, were crafty. Soon, Marianne was separated from her bodyguards and left by herself in the streets, half the town aflame. It was then the huge, hulking man had found her. He was enormous, bigger than even the stablehand at her family’s stables, and he scooped her up before she even had time to process what was happening. 

Marianne had fainted then, she supposed she had to have. How else would it be that she did not remember anything until she woke up on the floor of the ship’s brig? A large wave had rocked her from the wooden bench attached to the wall, and she had woken up, confused and disoriented and ever so hungry. 

She had been afraid to call out at first, but it turned out that she didn’t need to. A small boy with pale green hair and round glasses had come down the stairs, locked eyes with Marianne, and then immediately darted back up them. He returned a few minutes later, this time with a pink-haired girl in tow.

Hilda. That was her name. 

Marianne had never seen a woman so confident, so sure of herself, and so nonchalant about both of those facts as Hilda. And on top of that, she had been… so kind to Marianne. She hadn’t let her free or anything like that, of course, but she had provided her with food and (frightfully bitter) ale. When Marianne asked where exactly she was, Hilda had responded that she was many many miles from shore, from her home. 

Marianne hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time, but she had been glad to hear that, then. She didn’t know what that said about her. It probably made her a pretty lousy daughter. Her father must be worried sick, but…

This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to Marianne. And though she was terrified for the first few days, tense like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to throw her overboard or keyhaul her or all take turns hiking up her skirts like in those awful stories her uncle used to tell her…

They never did. 

She supposed that made them pretty lousy pirates.

The ship hit a wave again and Marianne groaned. She’d give anything for a distraction from the pounding in her head right about now. But as she looked around in the dim light, it seemed to be only her in the hull of the ship. Her and the rats and the creaking wood and a rush of light from the trapdoor above the sleeping hammocks and blur of bright pink hair, almost blinding in the way it reflected the sunlight. 

“Hey, holding up alright down here?” 

The bubbly voice cut through the unpleasant buzzing in Marianne’s skull. It was Hilda, the first mate, the one who had been so accommodating and sweeter than a pirate ought to be ever since Marianne had been on board. 

“Oh, yes, I’m alright…” Marianne began. She didn’t want to worry Hilda, she was just glad for the distraction, honestly. 

“We’re just hitting some choppy waters, it happens from time to time. I wouldn't worry about it,” Hilda smiled, bracing herself on a beam to avoid falling over. Marianne picked up on the furrow in her brow even so. 

“Uhm, okay, I… won’t,” came Marianne’s reply. She did not sound like she would not be worrying about it. “Is it a storm out there?” 

Hilda cocked her head to the side slightly. “Huh? Oh, no. You worry too much!” 

“Oh, sorry…”

“Don’t be! C’mon, stop apologizing. It’s not a good fit for that adorable little face of yours,” Hilda winked, and Marianne looked down at her feet, her ‘adorable little face’ suddenly feeling a lot hotter. 

“Something on your mind?” Hilda tried, a bit unnerved by the sudden silence. She wondered if she had said something to upset the girl, but she had learned from multiple visits down to see her that Marianne von Edmund was not a regular girl. Hilda wanted to assume that she was getting her to open up to her, slowly as the goings were. 

“Uhm, I was just wondering when we’re going to make port again--” Marianne began, but Hilda’s burst of laughter drowned out the rest of her words. 

“Look at you! Only a week on board and you’re already picking up the slang,” she smiled, and Marianne couldn’t help but give a weak grin in response. Had she said something wrong? That was just the way she heard the others talking to one another when their voices drifted through the floorboards as Marianne was attempting to sleep. 

“Not anytime soon, I don’t think. Why? Not enjoying it here?” 

Marianne opened her mouth to speak, but found herself hesitating. She should say that she  _ wasn’t  _ enjoying it here, aboard this pirate ship. That would be the responsible thing to do. She was the Margrave’s daughter, after all, she had been raised in a noble house to have noble manners. Of course she wasn’t fond of spending her days locked away with smelly old pirates, in this dinghy hull of a ship.

...Was she?

She chanced a glance up to meet Hilda’s eyes. Hilda… didn’t smell bad. None of the pirates she had met did, actually. Even the big blonde boy who had essentially kidnapped her (was throwing her over his shoulder after she had fainted and keeping her out of harm’s way considered kidnapping? Marianne didn’t know), even he hadn’t stunk of the usual things pirates were meant to stink of. 

There was the boy with the glasses who sat in the crows nest, he sometimes talked to Marianne when he got the courage to, he was almost as shy as she was. And the white-haired petite girl with the piercing eyes, she scared Marianne when she caught her glare but she never actually had harmed her. Even the pirate captain was sweet and more focused on rauncherous parties and ale than on torture and plundering. 

If this was what pirates were really like, then maybe the stories had gotten it all wrong. 

“Uhm, if you don’t mind me asking… why did you steal me away from my home?” Marianne asked, obviously catching Hilda off guard. The pink-haired girl frowned a bit, then rubbed the back of her neck, thinking. 

“So, here’s the thing. It was kind of… an accident.”

“An accident?”

“Yeah, uh, Raphael sort of… panicked.”

“Raph-- that is… the blonde-haired boy?”

“That’s the one. He saw you scared in the alley and said you looked so scared and lost, and he was afraid of what would happen to you if the Eagles got to you first,” Hilda explained.

“But there are no eagles in Edmund territory,” Marianne said, confused. “I mean, none that I’ve seen…”

Hilda snorted. “Not real eagles, silly. I mean the other band of pirates that raided your town that night.”

Marianne stilled. There had been other pirates? When she thought about it, really thought hard back to that day… yes, those first flags hadn’t been yellow at all. They’d been a deep red. The yellow sails had come after the red, after the flames and the chaos. So then… that meant the Golden Deer were…

“Were you trying to save me?” 

“Got the whole picture now?” Hilda smiled. “We’re the good guys. We stop pirates like the Black Eagles from wrecking towns like yours. Well, we’re  _ supposed  _ to stop them, at least. Sometimes we’re a bit late. News travels sort of slow on the high seas.”

“So, does that mean… will you take me back to my father eventually?” Marianne asked, trying and failing not to sound disappointed. It was for certain now-- the pirates wouldn’t hurt her, and with that knowledge the thought of returning to her dull, drab life in Edmund was…

As if reading her thoughts, Hilda placed a hand on her hip, squinted and said, “Do you  _ want  _ to go back?”

“Uhm…” but the hesitation was answer enough. If she really had longed to return, the reply would have come immediately. Marianne should have jumped at the chance, pleaded to be handed back over to her father and their little territory in the middle of nowhere. 

But she hadn’t.

“Well,” Hilda started after she surmised the answer wasn’t going to come from Marianne anytime soon, and she was not a girl intent on wasting her time. “You think on it. If you really want us to plant you back on Edmund’s shores, you let me know. I’ll be down with dinner at the same time as always.”

Hilda turned to walk back up the stairs, into that sunlight Marianne so wished to feel on her skin again, and Marianne cried out after her before she could stop herself. That wasn’t very becoming, her father would have her reprimanded for acting so unladylike. 

“Uhm,” she said, embarrassed. But having already gotten Hilda to stop and turn, Marianne knew she owed her an explanation. “What happens if I… say that I don’t want to return to Edmund?”

Hilda’s smile was bright and immediate, as if anticipating the query. 

“There’s always the open sea to call home.” 

* * *

Hilda was true to her word, and as the last rays of sunlight began to seep in through the floorboard cracks above her, the hatch in the ceiling was yanked open and the pink-haired woman stepped down into the belly of the ship, tray of food in hand. 

Marianne had never assumed pirates of all people would be punctual, as sometimes her own chambermaids forgot to retrieve her from her quarters for supper, but she figured that she would just add it to the list of assumptions that had been checked at the door today. 

Hilda’s face was kind as she descended the stairs to the deck, her skirts bouncing as she walked. Marianne had the thought that it must take quite a bit of time in the mornings to get all those clothes onto her-- surely she didn’t sleep in them-- but then found herself staring promptly at the floor as the image of Hilda in her smallclothes forced its way into her mind. Unbidden, of course. The Margaravate’s daughter was not in the habit of fantasizing about people in their smallclothes. 

“Same potato stew as always,” Hilda sighed a bit exaggeratedly as she sat on the stool outside the brig’s bars, “But I snuck some of Lysithea’s cookies in under the napkins.” She winked, and Marianne found herself smiling almost automatically. Probably a leftover habit from her nobility training. At least here she didn’t have to worry about lifting her finger and sipping slowly when she drank. The sweet ale that Hilda always accompanied her dinner with was slowly but steadily starting to grow on Marianne’s taste buds. It was bold and tasteful, something none of the small portions she had grown up with could contend with. 

“I, uhm, wasn’t aware that Lysithea baked,” Marianne said as she reached between the bars to take the tray. “Can you have an oven on a ship?” 

“Oh gods no, Lysithea can’t cook for anything,” Hilda snorted, a sound Marianne was beginning to take as a good sign. Whenever Marianne said something that entertained Hilda, she would blow air out of her nose or mouth in this assumed way. Marianne’s father would claim it unladylike and crass, but Marianne found herself more and more taken with it. Little Hilda-isms that made her more of an individual-- something greatly discouraged in noble women. “I stole them from her little tin that she thinks she’s so good at hiding.”

Unlike noble women indeed, thought Marianne as she sipped from the wooden bowl. The stew was hearty and filling, and always warmed her insides just the right amount. From what she understood of Hilda’s rambling, Raphael was the one who served as the ship’s cook most of the time. It seemed he had a penchant for perfecting the amount of cream and salt in stew, as well as slinging Marianne over her shoulders like a sack of the very same vegetable in her dinner. 

Hilda continued to talk as she flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder. “She’s so short that she thinks anywhere more than six feet off the ground is a good hiding spot,” she said, and Marianne giggled into her soup a bit, earning a grin from Hilda. “She is good at stealing them from bakeries, I’ll give her that. Her and Claude are menaces when it comes to shoplifting.” 

“Isn’t that what pirates are supposed to do?” 

“We try to keep it to a minimum.”

Marianne nodded, taking a small bite out of the cookie she’d heard so much about. It was shockingly fresh for something that had spent what Marianne had assumed was a good few weeks at sea. She made a small ‘mmm’ sound as the sugar blossomed over her tongue, and then covered her mouth shyly. Hilda waved a hand dismissively. 

“You’re so modest, you’ve got to drop that if you’re going to stay here with us.”

“I wasn’t aware that was the plan…” Marianne replied, finishing off the last of her dinner. She sounded more teasing than she had meant to, and even seemed to catch Hilda off-guard for a spell, something she had never managed to do before. Hilda was always so composed, always so confident and in charge, but her cheeks colored just slightly as Marianne made the comment. It would have gone unnoticed had Marianne not taken to staring at her mouth as she talked. 

“Well, you’re certainly welcome to. But it’s no skin off my back if you don’t. Just don’t come crying to me when your dumb little town gets overrun by pirates again,” Hilda said, looking intently at the wall. 

Marianne let the comment about her town slide for the moment, much more interested in this new side of Hilda she had uncovered. It was interesting to be on the other side of the dynamic-- usually Hilda was the one making Marianne’s cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink. 

“Well, it would be nice to sleep somewhere other than this bench, I suppose. Though,” Marianne quickly added, sensing she had overstepped. “It is a very nice bench. Much nicer than… other benches.” 

Hilda’s carefree demeanor returned as quickly as it had left. “No, I’m sure you’re used to sleeping on much more comfortable surfaces, your highness,” she teased, and now it was Marianne’s turn to color. She attempted and failed to produce an adequate retort to the playful jab, She was new to things like this, after all. 

_ Things like this? _ Marianne thought to herself.  _ What exactly  _ was  _ this, anyway? Nothing that I’ve experienced before, at least.  _

“Well, as the first mate, I do get some pretty nice quarters. Maybe you could check them out sometime? See if they’re to your liking?”

It took Marianne a few moments to process what Hilda was suggesting. When she did, she went red to the roots of her hair. Hilda merely winked and held her hand out for the now-empty bowl. Marianne hoped her hands were not shaking too much as she handed it over, promptly avoiding eye contact. 

“I’m only kidding, don’t be so serious,” Hilda said, but Marianne barely heard it over the blood thudding in her ears. 

* * *

The next few days are… interesting. Hilda continues to bring her meals, even sneaking some midday snacks in there from time to time. Slowly but surely, Marianne is promoted from prisoner to deckhand, helping clean and sometimes even cook, even if she has to earn her sea legs first. She nearly falls into Hilda multiple times on deck, and while Hilda teases her about it, Marianne swears it’s accidental-- even though she is not complaining about the added contact between the two of them. 

It’s strange. Marianne’s never once worried about things like this, like when she’d next get to see someone, or notice things like the way Hilda’s hair was done up today, but she finds herself more and more inclined to them. 

At Hilda’s request Marianne has graduated from sleeping in the brig to the little hammocks that the rest of the crew take.  _ Rest of the crew.  _ Yes, Marianne supposes that she is, in a way, part of the crew now. She doesn’t know if that makes her a pirate. She thinks that she would probably have to have spent more than a few weeks between being the only daughter of the Margrave and being a pirate to actually be considered one. 

But that’s just the thing-- Marianne doesn’t know how to define something like this. She never in a million years dreamed of this being her life, but now she can’t imagine going back. To her boring existence in that little town where it always seemed to be raining. The Golden Deer had plucked her from her droll surroundings and planted her atop the open ocean. It was everything Marianne didn’t know she needed and more. 

And then there was Hilda. Hilda, who helped her feel so comfortable here in the first place. Hilda, who brought her daily meals and conversation. Hilda, without whom none of this comfort and belonging would have been possible. Marianne wants to thank her. She should thank her.

How on earth can she think of a way to thank her for all she’s done?

Asking the other crew mates is out of the question. If one of them talks and the rumor finds its way to Hilda, then the whole thing is blown. No, Marianne needs to do this herself. 

She’s never been very good at doing things herself.

Which, she supposes, is why she finds herself standing awkwardly outside the first mate’s cabin in the near middle of the night. Her hand hovers over the door knocker, shaking. She doesn’t know what to say, she doesn’t think this was even remotely a good idea, but she’s already out here. She already snuck out of her bunk, avoided both Leonie and Lorenz on patrol (something she would have never thought herself capable of, but Pirate Marianne is not afraid of these things anymore, she’s afraid of pretty girls with a loud presence and pink hair and warm cheeks), and so she can’t return now. She has to do this, whatever this is. 

Marianne’s hand is knocking on the dark wood before she can stop herself. 

“Marianne?”

“Uhm, hello,” Marianne replies, helpfully. She stares into those lovely pink eyes for a few seconds before she remembers the world around her, and where her limbs are located, and presents Hilda with the small tin she had been holding in sweaty, shaking hands. 

“Aw, for me?” Hilda says, taking the tin and popping the lid. Inside are three small sugar cookies, the entirety of the ones Marianne had deemed worthy to present. At the bottom, underneath the sweets lay a tiny note, which Hilda smiled as she picked up. It simply read:

_ To Hilda, _

_ Thank you for always being there for me. _

_ -Marianne _

The author of the note couldn’t look at the recipient. Marianne’s face was aflame, and she didn’t think even the bitter, biting cold of the sea all around them could put it out. Hilda was quiet, and Marianne had half a mind to turn around and walk back below deck, risk getting yelled at by the night patrol-- and then she heard the  _ crunch.  _ Marianne’s eyes shot up, and lingered on Hilda’s same plump cheeks as she chewed. 

“Did you make these? They’re like,  _ really  _ good,” Hilda spoke through a mouthful of biscuit. By the looks of it, she had eaten it in one bite, another thing Marianne found herself being drawn to. No petite little bites, it seemed so much more genuine.

“Ah, yes,” Marianne began, forcing herself to look away from Hilda in order to focus, as she had just realized the other girl was wearing only her smallclothes. The last thing she needed was for her mind to wander as it so often did when she was around Hilda. “Well, Raphael did help, and Lysithea taste-tested, but for the most part…”

“Why?” Hilda said suddenly.

“Hm?” Marianne met her eyes again. Hilda didn’t look mad, and she obviously was enjoying the gift, she was nearly done with the second cookie. “Oh, I, uhm…” speak clearly, Marianne. “I only wanted to say thank you for… making me feel welcome here.”

Hilda swallowed, stared for a second, then smiled. 

“Do you want to come inside?”

Marianne nodded before she even knew what she was agreeing to. 

Hilda’s room was lavishly decorated, Marianne would have mistaken it for the captain’s quarters if she hadn’t known better. But she now knew Captain von Riegan well enough to recognize that he wasn’t one to decorate like this. His cabin probably  _ did  _ look less than the captain’s quarters than the trinkets Hilda had thrown on the walls, gifts and mirrors and ornate furniture spread across every corner of the little wooden cabin, and almost made Marianne’s eyes hurt to look at. 

It reminded her of the rooms of the other noble children she’d been made to play with as a young child. When she thought about it, her and Hilda could probably have been friends when they were younger. Hilda had the air of a princess, even as a pirate. Marianne liked that about her. She liked it very much. 

Hilda took a seat on the bed and patted the space next to her. Her bed was covered in so many pillows, big and small, that Marianne could scarcely even see the mattress underneath all the upholstery. Just looking at it made her want to collapse into it and allow it to swallow her up. The crew hammocks were a big step-up from the bench in the brig, but Hilda’s bed made them look like nothing. Hilda must have caught her staring, because she smirked and asked “Like what you see?”

Marianne snapped her attention back to the girl next to her. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t polite of me to stare.” 

Hilda snorted, moved slightly closer to Marianne, who stilled immediately. “You really need to let go of that attitude if you’re going to be a real pirate,” she said. “But I don’t mind seeing you get all flustered like that, I guess.”

Marianne didn’t know what to make of that, so she pointed down at the tin in Hilda’s lap. There was still one biscuit left in it. “Did you enjoy the cookies?” she asked, for want of distracting herself from the heat in her cheeks.

“Yeah, your little note was cute, too. Did you try them?” 

“Not personally, no. I left that mostly up to Lysithea, she seemed like she knew much more than I did…” 

“Pfft, Lys was probably just trying to get free sweets. Here,” Hilda held up a cookie to Marianne’s mouth. Marianne paused, tried to reach out to take it, but Hilda pulled her hand out of reach with a flick of her wrist. Marianne got the memo, at least she hoped she did, and parted her lips slightly. 

Hilda pushed the biscuit past Marianne’s lips slowly, and Marianne took a small bite. Hilda was right, they had turned out rather well-- the ones that hadn’t burnt over the fire, at least. It was the perfect combination of sweet and salty, soft and crispy, and Marianne tried not to let any crumbs spill onto her apron or skirts. 

She covered her mouth shyly as she chewed and nodded, then watched with wide eyes as Hilda popped the rest of it into her mouth.  _ An indirect kiss,  _ Marianne thought, vaguely. 

“You closed your eyes when I fed you it,” Hilda mused, fondly. 

“Oh, s-sor--”

“Quit apologizing, and do it again.” Hilda said. Her voice was stern but not mean. 

Marianne did as she was told, eyelashes fluttering closed. 

Of all the things Marianne had assumed to happen, Hilda’s lips on her own were very high on the list of things she wanted and very very low on the probability of actually happening. 

But, Hilda always had been good at surprising her. 

Hilda’s lips were soft, plush, even softer than the homemade biscuits had been. Warmer, too, Marianne noted. And it was a miracle she even noted it at all, as most of her thoughts became immediately clouded at the sensation. Marianne had never been kissed before, but she supposed that this was what it must feel like. It was wonderful, addicting, and even more dizzying than the ale she had grown so accustomed to drinking. 

Hilda smelled like fruit and warm summer evenings, and mixed with the gentle ocean breeze drafting through the gaps in the woodwork, Marianne was lost to her waves. 

Hilda pulled away slowly, and Marianne embarrassingly leaned in to chase the feeling. When she blinked her eyes open and realized what she had done, she blushed, covering her face. Hilda only giggled, not a snort or a chuckle, but an adorably light sound that Marianne had scarcely experienced. She wanted to make Hilda laugh forever, even if it was because of her dumb little Marianne-isms. 

“You’re a bad kisser,” Hilda said, but there was no venom to the words. 

“I’ve never done it before…” Marianne said. Then, feeling bold, added: “Could you help me practice some more?”

“Ooh, very smooth,” Hilda rolled her eyes lovingly, and then she was on Marianne again. She tipped them back into the swath of pillows and that same fruit scent, so much that Marianne could scarcely breathe in anything else. That was okay. She would gladly let Hilda drag her under the waves and hold her there if it meant she wouldn’t stop kissing Marianne. 

The rest of the night passes in bliss, and sensations Marianne didn’t know she could feel. Somehow, making Hilda feel good made her feel even better, and Marianne was so caught up in it all that she didn’t even object to Hilda telling her to stay the night. She had said that she would make an order if Marianne refused, mostly joking of course, but Marianne couldn’t help but get a thrill at the idea. 

Marianne was exhausted, both from the night’s activities and the comfort that washed over her from sleeping in a familiar softness that she had grown up used to, but she managed to keep awake just long enough after Hilda had drifted off to admire how pretty the other woman looked as she slept. Her silky pink hair was rarely out of place-- Hilda very obviously prided herself in it’s upkeep-- but here, in bed next to her, Marianne could appreciate the chaos of it. Even more so knowing that she was the cause. 

She was so far from home, yet had found comfort beyond what she had ever imagined in this little pirate family that had adopted her. Hilda was everything Marianne had ever allowed herself to dream of and more, and getting to be close with her in this way made her heart soar to heights she didn’t know possible. It was amazing, she couldn’t even dream of going back. 

Once she had let herself enjoy the feeling, it had overtaken her in the best of ways. Marianne didn’t know she wanted a life like this, but she understood now that it was what she had so desperately needed. She was so immensely grateful for it, but she could regale Hilda with fancy words when she woke up.

Hilda had helped her see that. Hilda, who slept so soundly next to her, arm thrown over Marianne’s torso, her small warm breath on Marianne’s shoulder. Marianne smiled, tried to keep her eyes open, but eventually even she had to give in the clutches of sleep. Surrounded by Hilda, bathed in her scent and love, Marianne didn’t mind letting the gentle rock of the waves lull her into the most restful sleep she had ever had.


End file.
